


bopping in the country (fishing in a stream)

by thedreamsteam



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Crying, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, i describe the zombies eating im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamsteam/pseuds/thedreamsteam
Summary: Will Schofield doesn’t have a fucking clue on what’s going on.No, really. It’s not like they got a megaphone and told the entire countryhey! the zombies are coming and they’re going to eat your face off! not me because i’m rich hahaand then decided to try and save them out of the goodness of their heart.or,the zombie apocalypse has started
Relationships: Joseph Blake & Tom Blake, Tom Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	bopping in the country (fishing in a stream)

**Author's Note:**

> this is only the start people!!! more fics will be happening bc i love these dumbasses way too much
> 
> thank you to the 2nd devons server for helping me with this, i love y'all!!
> 
> title from honky cat except taron egerton and richard madden version bc literally i cant stop listening to it
> 
> **tw for: thinking about suicide**

Will Schofield doesn’t have a fucking clue on what’s going on.

No, really. It’s not like they got a megaphone and told the entire country _hey! the zombies are coming and they’re going to eat your face off! not me because i’m rich haha_ and then decided to try and save them out of the goodness of their heart. No, the only reason this entire situation happened is because some dumbasses did something in America and then one of them was like _what if we go on a world trip?_ but decided to land in France, just to die and then come back to life.

It’s not like he even found this out from the government. No no no, those rich fucking assholes just barricaded themselves and told everyone they’d be doing this for the safety of themselves first. Every single government official seemed to release the same message, telling everyone this was for their own safety, but it was such utter _bullshit_ Schofield was surprised it wasn’t spelled out right in the air in front of him. #1, the government doesn’t give an utter shit about you. They care about money, and that’s it. They don’t care about whether you live or die, only if you pay your bills and work your hours. He’s learned this lesson too many times to count, simply walking in the street when someone’s shouted at him and called him a slur because he simply has a flag on his jacket, and the police who are supposed to care, who are supposed to help people like him, just stares as it happens right in front of him. So, of fucking course the government doesn’t tell anyone the situation. It’s the people online, who tell as many as they can before they die.

So, to put it in simpler terms, the zombie apocalypse is upon the world, and it seems like he’s survived it so far. And that’s weird to think, isn't it? The fact that a man who never really tried to exercise, who never really had friends, who never really came out because he was too scared to, is one of the last people alive in this world. The person he sees at the deli shop might be dead.

That’s a grounding thought, isn't it? The fact that everyone he saw on Monday may as well already be dead. The kid on his bike? Probably got ripped to shreds. The man who waved at him as he crossed the street? Maybe he just got bit, to turn into a zombie. The man who let him into the university when his key decided to cut out? Maybe he got gouged on, the zombies all cheering victoriously in their strange language. He heard some of them last night, when he was hiding in the top of the trees. They had found someone, someone who had just managed to escape, but not anymore. He was trapped, stuck in the middle of five of them, and couldn't escape, no matter how much he tried. The zombies just slowly ripped him apart until all that was left was his bones and some parts of his body. Schofield throws up later that night, when he’s secure in an apartment building as far away from those zombies as he could make it. Tell him it’s not safe, he doesn’t give a shit. He just saw someone die, and it probably will be far from the last time.

He’s started near Leeds, but he can’t tell where he is now. After the fifth fire he’s stumbled upon and the countless bullets he’s picked up and shoved into his backpack, it’s all started to blend in to each other, just becoming either _that part with the 6 dead bodies_ or _that part with the one tree that looks like it’s about to fall over_. It’s only the little things that seem to separate each moment now. It’s hard, if he’s being honest. Not a lot separate every moment from each other. Sometimes, it’s harder, like how many steps he took on average, or it’s easier, like how many moments he can hear someone screaming in the distance. Eventually, after a month, he doesn’t hear anyone scream anymore, and he can’t tell if that worries or relieves him. It should worry him, but after being in this world for so long, he doesn’t know what’s right and what’s wrong.

That’s the worst thing about this world, isn't it? In the beginning, he thought he knew the difference from good and bad. It’s as easy as the difference between up and down. He thought he knew everything he would need to know, but it’s not like that. Being in an apocalyptic world requires much more thoughts and much more skill. You have to know how to breathe without moving your chest too much, or how to move without ever touching the ground. You have to eat quickly, hoping the zombies won’t smell your smoke from a mile away (you never know what they can do. All you can keep is that they eat humans and they’re always hungry for it). You learn how to sleep lightly and move quickly, grabbing your nearest object and turning it into a weapon in as fast a few seconds. You sleep with a knife in your hands and keep your precious supplies close, because who knows if anyone’s out there? You never know what someone will do when desperate. You learn that you don’t know if you ever were a good person in the first place.

Schofield learns to move fast, move quietly, and that’s how he finds himself almost dead outside of Nottingham, food stuck in a bear trap. He curses out quietly, fingers already moving to find the springs of the trap. This is the one thing he remembered from hours of boredom on Wikipedia, thank God. At least he can thank his professors for something: leaving him bored enough to go to Wikipedia. His hands press down, and he closes the springs, quickly relieving pressure on his leg. He slips it out, slowly releasing the springs until it’s closed again. He’s quick, checking his legs for any injuries, and when he finds that there are none, he moves quickly, rushing away from the spot. He knows these are the areas that attract more zombies, because they’re filled with more bodies and more bodies mean more food, but he couldn’t stop himself, because surely that meant the same for him, right? More food in the homes? But that meant he could become food too.

So, sadly (or maybe happily?) he had to leave, moving through the trees and avoiding the stench of death as much as he could. It wasn’t really hard, except eventually the scene didn’t leave his nose, and he was stuck with learning whether death was nearby by seeing if blood was smeared into the street or not. Instead, he decides to not risk himself and just walks. It’s not hard to do in these places, and he just doesn’t stop until all he can hear are crickets.

It’s almost comforting out here, where he can escape the silence and act like he’s just alone, staying in the forest all alone with no one else in the world. Where he can act like there is no apocalypse, and it’s just a normal Tuesday night.

That’s what he can try to think.

\--

Thomas Blake has decided he fucking hates the apocalypse.

It had started out with him and his brother together, and they had decided to stick together. And that’s great and all, especially since they think their mother’s already dead (one of the places the virus had rapidly spread was their small little town), especially since it’s the goddamn apocalypse, but their plan almost immediately went to pure shit.

Since he’s not an idiot and knows he can’t take on any zombies (at least, not yet) he moves away from where all the zombies are, keeping his packs close and quiet, gesturing to his brother behind him. He can tell Joe rolls his eyes just from the way he breathes, but he decides not to comment on it in favor of staying alive. They move quietly, as if they’re moving through a battlefield in the middle of World War 1, and he can’t help but start to slowly imagine what that’d be like. He can’t really, though, since he knows fuck-all about the war, and he’s trying to stay alive here.

“Oi! Keep moving.” Joe poke shim with a stick, and he jumps slightly, staying quiet as they move. They’re almost to the edge of another town when Joe breaks away, telling him he’ll be back in a moment with more food.

“What?” He hisses quietly. “This is how you die, Joe! You never separate!”

Joe just waves him off, and tells him he knows where they had hidden some non-perishable food before leaving, promising he’ll be back in only a few minutes before sneaking back the way they had just come. He moves to rest in the shrubbery more, rubbing his arms as he waits for his brother to return. Except, an hour soon passes, and so does another one, and he realizes quickly that his brother isn’t coming back, and he’s the reason behind it. His heart hurts, then, and at that moment he has to ignore the tears and just push back the pain as he pulls the bags tighter around his back and keeps walking.

That memory plagues him for the next few days, and he can’t stop replaying the memory in his head over and over again. Where the fuck did he go wrong? Was he really that awful to drive his own brother away, to make him lose the last bit of family he had to go do whatever the hell he wanted? Was he that horrible to Joe? Joe was his older brother, for fucks sake! He should’ve been used to this, but still, Tom’s the one who drove him away.

It doesn’t go away from his mind, but just moves to the side, not taking over as he follows his routine. He wakes up, does his best to clean himself, and then he begins his walk. He’s moving up, trying to get up further than London. He’d go explore the city to try and find food, but he’s also heard of 28 Days Later (never seen it, but he’s pretty sure it's about an apocalypse, right?) and doesn’t want to get into too much danger. So, he ignores going in that direction and decides he just needs to move straight up, not going anywhere else. Normally, he’d stick to the main roads, but these aren’t normal times, are they? Not since the first man stumbled into the middle of the square and bit the woman with her kid, causing her to scream and for her kids to run away screaming, as her bite turned red and her breathing became heavy. It was apparent to anyone who had even heard of a zombie movie what was happening, and the square soon became empty, the only people left were the zombie, the mom, and him.

It was dumb, he knows, to stay, but he couldn’t help but try to watch, wanting to know what happens (wanting to know if it’s as scary as he thinks it is). Afterwards, he wished he never stayed, wished he never stopped to watch the woman, because it’s not even scary. It’s just sad. She doesn’t ever get the chance to turn into a zombie, because the pre-existing one turns her into his own dinner, ripping her guts out as if it’ll get a prize for fastest opening, clawing its way down her as if it just wanted an award for worst thing alive (dead?). It’s so horrible and bad that he almost throws up right then and there, but he doesn’t, leaving to run away, to run home.

He throws up when he reaches home, and Joe doesn’t even question it. He knows Joe knows what he saw, knows Joe knows why he’s late. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t sob to Joe, telling him everything he saw. He can tell Joe’s tired of holding him up as he cries, but he never puts him down either. Joe only holds him close as he cries, comforting him through every moment. He’s thankful for it when he’s finally worked himself through it, leaning up to sniffle and wipe his eyes.

“Thank you, Joe.” He finally mumbles a moment later, and Joe just ruffles his hair, smiling.

“Don’t mention it.”

He almost cries remembering that moment out here, all alone in the forest, the only warmth coming from himself. Sometimes, he wishes he was traveling with someone, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with this entire shitty mess by himself. So that he could just be with someone, so that he knows he’s not alone in this shitty mess of a world. That’s probably one wish he wishes could come true, that he could just have someone close to him. It doesn’t matter whether it’s for warmth or to become friends with. He just wants _someone_.

That’s what anyone would want in a time like this, right? Someone to be close with? Someone they can share all their deepest and darkest fears with? He just wants someone he can tell everything about. Tell them about everything he’s seen and heard, and not get judged for it. Tell them how much he just wants someone, and for them to feel the same, and is that not too much to ask? It can’t be, not with this time. It truly can’t be too much to wish for. If it is, he’ll apologize and wish for something smaller, like a will to live. Or maybe even most of his hope that he’s lost in the weeks he’s been out here, nearly dying every time he’s run in with a zombie.

God, this entire thing’s changed him. He can’t even tell if it’s for better or worse. Could it be for better if it's going to help him fight zombies, get what he needs, or will it be for worse because he doesn’t think he’ll think twice before stealing supplies for himself. Could it be better if he’ll be stronger, more resilient, harder to beat, or worse because now nobody will be able to stop him from doing whatever he wants? It scares him how easy it’d be to just turn bad, into one of those men he saw stockpiling the food, smirking at him when he just grabbed a couple cans. All he can remember is a friend referred to him as Baumer, and that’s all he wants to remember, he thinks.

He hates it here. Really, truly hates it here. He’s not trying to sound so depressing, but there are seriously times where he thinks about ending it all right then and there. It takes everything he has in him and then some more to not pull out the gun and just pull the trigger. He just has to think about the fact he’s more scared of what comes after death than death itself. That stops him from ever doing what he feels like doing. Sometimes, it’s more than that that stops him from what he’s thinking of. He thinks of that boy he saw at the marketplace a few days before this whole shitshow went down, who had smiled at him so nicely that he can’t help but almost beg at whatever’s up there that he’s alive. It’s too cruel to let a boy so sweet die so harshly to these mindless monsters. That’s the cruelest thing about this entire situation, isn’t it? Nobody gets to choose whether they live or die. It’s not up to them. It’s up to fate and whether they’re worth something in this godforsaken wasteland of a world.

This whole zombie apocalypse is messing him up, not just physically, but very much mentally. He’s already thought about offing himself in more ways than one, but he can’t do that, not when he’s this far. Not to mention, he can’t stop thinking about the zombies. Those poor fucking _zombies_ . If you had told him before all of this bullshit started that he’d be feeling bad for flesh-eating zombies, he would’ve laughed in your face before asking if you were okay. It’s just, he’s changed. A lot. And that’s good! But he can’t help but see these zombies' faces and feel so bad for them. He _knows_ these aren’t human anymore, not since the moment they turned around and ate someone's face and enjoyed it, but the feeling persists in him. They can’t help but feel like humans to him. When he stands on a high building and stares down at the, he can’t help but feel so lost because haven’t you lost once you feel sympathy for the monsters you’re supposed to be killing? Except, that’s the thing, because he can’t help but feel like they’re still human. He sees that they won’t stop killing until their hunger is satisfied, but he can’t help but see their faces and see all the pain that led them to this point. And that’s bad, isn’t it? He shouldn’t feel like this towards them, he _shouldn’t_ , but he can’t help it. He wants to help them so bad, but unless he becomes a goddamn super scientist and somehow finds a working lab, he can’t save them. 

He walks silently, staring at the grass all around him as he thinks some more. That’s the worst part about all of this, isn’t it? He has more time to think, more time to be stuck in the silence of his own head. It’s suffocating, and he absolutely hates it. It’s awful, but it’s not like he can distract himself with the sounds of the Backstreet Boys anymore. He’s just stuck with the sounds of crickets chirping and footsteps up ahead of him. Footsteps?

His eyes widen, and he scrambles to the side, pushing himself into the bushes as he hides, waiting for the noise that’ll indicate the sound is just from a zombie, growling as it walks it’s way through the forest. Except, the noise doesn’t come. Instead, a small sound of cursing does, and a man comes into view (a handsome man, Tom notes to himself even though that shouldn’t be what he notices) with blood splattered on his body. His guns are hanging on his back, with a knife in his hands, and Tom can tell this man’s already ready for this entire world. There’s dirt and mud and everything else smeared all on him, as if he either fell more than once or he was prepared to hide in the bushes as well. He’s so fucking prepared that Tom forgets for a moment that he’s supposed to be hiding and slips, falling flat on his ass

The man’s head whips around, eyes already finding where he was, and he calls out, softly in case any zombies are nearby, “Is someone there?”

Tom raises his hands as he gets up, stepping out from the bush. The mans’ knife is trained on him, prepared to throw if he makes any sudden movements. So, he moves slowly, keeping his hands up and away from his katana as he steps out of the bushes. He makes sure to move slow, so as to not scare the man, but he still moves and gets up quickly. The man’s pulled out his gun at this point, aiming at Tom. They’re both quiet, and Tom refuses to move first, to try and even get on this guys bad side.

“Pull out your weapon.” The man says after a moment of them staring at each other, gun pointed straight at Tom’s head. “Pull out your sword or whatever the fuck it is, put it down on the ground, and step away from it.” When Tom hesitates, only for a second, the man steps closer. Tom rushes then, pulling out his katana and setting it down on the ground and scrambling away. The man steps by his katana, lifting it up and admiring it, before holding it as he steps closer to Tom.

“Who are you?” He asks, and it almost sounds as if he’s just wondering aloud, but Tom still answers.

“I’m Tom Blake, and I’m just trying to stay alive.” He can’t help but keep the scared tremor in his voice, voice almost trembling. “Please, I wasn’t following you or anything! I only heard you when I heard your footsteps a couple minutes ago. I couldn’t tell if you were a zombie or not, and I didn’t want to take the chance, so I just dived into the bush. I’m sorry, really, I just-”

“Oh, be quiet.” The man says, and his mouth snaps shut, staring down at the ground. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t see anything the man’s going through, until he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“How old are you?” The man asks softly, and Tom can see his face has softened, staring at him.

“20.” He says, and the man leans back, sitting on the ground as he buries his face in his hands. He can just barely hear him curse to himself, before the man looks back at him.

“Are you alone?”

A lump forms in his throat at that question, so he just nods, and he’s glad the man doesn’t question why he doesn't answer verbally. He just nods and stands up, reaching out a hand to him. Tom stares at it, confusedly, before turning to staring at the man, questioning why he was doing that. The man sighs, and crouches down.

“I’m sorry for threatening to shoot you, alright? It’s just, I’m very paranoid. The only people I’ve seen have been the ones getting eaten by zombies, and I just got worried that you were already bit, and just hiding to try and attack me. I won’t hurt you, or threaten to hurt you, and I thought that since we’ve met, that you would want to stay with someone finally human.”

Tom stares at him, but after finally realizing what he’s said, he nods, taking the man’s hand and standing up.

“What’s your name?” He asks, and the man smiles at him.

“William Schofield, but you can call me whatever you want.”

Tom realizes he hasn’t let go of Will’s hand yet, so he does then, but he already misses it as he walks with Will. The older man hands him back his katana, a silent _sorry_ coming along with it. They’re silent as they start walking in a different direction from what the two of them had been walking, silently deciding that’s what would be best, to explore the unexplored parts.

They’re silent, except for a few times where they ask one another questions, like when Tom asks Will how old he was, or Will asks Tom where he was from. Slowly, they just start to play 21 questions, except it only ends when they get bored enough. So, Will learns that Tom loves the color pink and that his favorite activity is to read, while Tom learns that Will’s favorite color is blue and that he loves to write and paint. They both love hamburgers, they both love the same series, and they both love cats.

Tom can’t help but think that in the middle of all this chaos, he likes this little moment they have, just acting like two friends going down the street to grab food, instead of two people who met that day just trying to survive in this goddamn wasteland.

“You want to stop soon?” Will asks, and he nods, following after the man as they veer off the side, finding an empty house and two empty beds soon enough. It isn’t Tom’s fault, really, but he passes out the moment he steps into the kitchen. He can hear Will shout out his name as he falls, but it’s too late, and the world just turns dark.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr whoop whoop @willlamschofield pls talk to me
> 
> thank you for reading this!!


End file.
